The Golden Trinket
by Loloebee
Summary: AU: Emma Swan is a slave, bound to the man who killed her parents. Just when Emma thinks she doesn't have anything left to live for, she encounters a mysterious man in the market place, setting into motion a series of events that will change their lives forever. {Captain Swan}
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

* * *

The sun had only just cleared the mountains and the Rookery market was already alive with activity. It had rained during the night, turning the dirty street into a thick, muddy mess. People rushed to finished business before the sun rose high in the sky and drew out the unbearable smell that accompanied the Rookery during the summer months. Vendors called out in the labyrinth of stores, hoping to grab the attention of potential customers. Occasionally one would stop his spruik to warn off a lingering prostitute or street urchin, only to continue on as if nothing had happened.

A thickset man with a round face and thin moustache stood on a wooden stool and called out into morning air.

"Fresh fish, caught straight from the harbor this morning. Fresh fish!"

Emma Swan watched from her own stall as Aldus Rolfe attempted to sell his fish to an older woman and then laughed when she dismissed him. Rolfe was widely known among the market vendors as 'the wolf', and although regular customers knew not to buy his questionable items, visitors did not. Rolfe was known to lift a few items from other vendors, or raid the Castles waste carts. Sometimes, if he was feeling extra plucky, he would attempt to pilfer a royal supply carriage. But Emma had only heard of that happening once, and the driver and guard had been executed as a result.

"Something funny girl?" He sneered as he stepped down from his stool.

"Your fish are rotting sir, yet you call them fresh." She said.

The man smoothed his moustache with his sweaty hand and drew closer to Emma. "And what would a slave girl know of the freshness of fish." Emma blanched at his words, but kept her face expressionless.

"I know they should not be covered in maggots." She said loudly, so passers by could hear. Emma knew she should have kept her mouth shut. He was by no means a Nobleman, but there was still a hierarchy within the common folk, and although Rolfe was just a common thief, she knew crossing him would not do her well.

The man's face flushed a deep red and his lips thinned. Anger burned in his eyes. "Hold your tongue slave, or I shall inform your master of your insolence. I'm sure you wouldn't want any more scars on that pretty back of yours."

Emma fought to keep her face expressionless, but she could feel the heat rising under her skin. It had been so long since the last time a whip had touched her back. She was only ten years old the first time she was whipped. She had tried to escape her master, but he had somehow tracked her down and brought her back. It had taken her a full week to recover from that lashing, but a full turn of the moon later and she had tried again, this time telling herself she would be smarter. But her master continued to track her down and at the age of seventeen she had finally accepted her fate, and no longer attempted to run. She had still endured the whip when she spoke out of turn or failed to comply with her master's wishes in a timely manner. But lately the will to hold her head up and carry on had died, and she felt like an empty vessel.

So there stood Rolfe, reminding Emma of her eternal leash, and she could not help the words as they sprung from her mouth.

"I have no master." She had meant to hold her head high in defiance, but she knew the mistake she had made the moment she said those words.

The man's eyes flashed dangerously and grabbed her wrist in an instant and flipped it over. Emma barked a protest but the man held her wrist tightly to reveal the brand of the slaves. She had received it decades ago, but she could still feel the searing heat as if it was yesterday.

"Don't insult my intelligence girl. Every leader of the Rookery knows that 'the pretty young blonde' belongs to Rumplestiltskin." He released her and Emma rubbed her wrist in hopes to erase his touch.

Once again Emma felt the heat rise and debated whether or not her next words would be worth the lashing she would surely receive once Rolfe had whispered in Rumplestiltskin's ear. A fire that Emma had feared was whipped from her, suddenly returned and swirled dangerously in her chest.

"You are mistaken sir. You have no intelligence to insult."

Emma had no time to react; Rolfe had raised his hand so fast that she hadn't realized he had struck her until the force of the slap had caused her to fall to the ground. A painful ringing filled her head and she held onto her cheek, but the heat of her hand only worsened the sting.

"You dare strike a woman." A voice spoke from behind her.

"Shove off!" Rolfe grunted in reply.

But before Emma could turn and see whom the voice belonged too, a closed fist connected with Rolfe's jaw and knocked him to the ground.

"What the bloody hell-" Rolfe swore as he tried to sit up, but a foot pushed him back down into the mud and remained sitting on his chest.

"Are you okay my Lady?" The stranger asked as he extended his hand to Emma.

She tried to hide the sharp intake of air as she finally looked upon her savior. His black hair shone in the morning sun and rippled in the slight breeze that came in from the harbor. His face was handsome and clean, too clean for a place like the Rookery. But it was his eyes that caught Emma's attention; so blue that she though she was staring into endless, cloudless sky. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words failed her.

"Get your ruddy foot off me." Rolfe cried. And the stranger tore his eyes from Emma and looked down at the lump of a man at his feet.

"Touch this woman again and I shall gut you like the rotting fish you are trying to sell." The stranger then used his foot to _roll_ Rolfe away from him, and then he turned his attention back to Emma, outstretching his hand once more.

Emma cocked her head. He wore the clothes of a commoner; A tunic the colour of sand and black trousers and leggings. Though he wore clothes of a common man, the materiel was brand new and his boots shone to brightly. He stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like this.

Emma hesitated for a moment before she finally placed her hand in his open palm and let him pull her from the muddy ground. But as he helped her steady her self, his eyes flicked to the brand on her wrist and Emma yanked it from his grip.

"I am no Lady." Emma said, confirming he had indeed seen the brand of the slaves on her wrist.

"A slave? I did not know there were slaves in this kingdom." His Adams Apple bobbed.

"You must not be from around here." She said as she tried to tidy her dress.

"I've lived here since I was a boy."

Emma raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Then you delude yourself sir." And she turned from the stranger and returned to her stall.

The man stood still, as if her words had stung him, and then he turned on his heels as if he was to leave, but then stalked back over to where Emma sat.

"Do I not get a thank you?" He asked.

Emma sucked in a breath and turned her burning gaze to the man. "Shall I thank you for no doubt ensuring I will be whipped tonight?" She held his eyes, daring him say something.

But she wasn't sure why she had said that. This man had obviously seen a woman in distress and acted on instinct.

 _A man raised right._ She thought.

But the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and Rolfe was probably on his way to Rumplestiltskin at that very moment.

"I- I'm sorry." He took a step closer to Emma, his eyes fierce with regret. "I only meant to-"

Emma held up her hand to silence him and let out a long sigh. "I know what you meant sir. You obviously do not know how things work around here. I thank you for your help." Emma reached for a golden trinket that lay on the table and handed it the dark haired man. "A token of my appreciation."

The man looked down at the golden swan that now lay in his hand, and examined it closer. "Did you make this?"

Emma nodded. "My master provides me with the gold to craft these trinkets to sell."

The man's face paled when she mentioned her master, and Emma felt guilty for a second before it quickly evaporated.

 _Good._ She thought. _This man is obviously not commoner. Left him see what really goes on in the Rookery._

The man swallowed a lump in his throat, and opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly shut it again. His eyes held her own for what felt like an eternity before his eyes snapped up to the entrance of the Market and he swore softly under his breath.

"I must take my leave. But I have a request. Tell me your name."

Emma stared at him for a moment, unsure, before she said: "Emma Swan."

A smile pulled at his lips as he understood the significance of the trinket she gave him, and then he ran into the sea of people. And Emma couldn't help but smile at the mysterious man who had come to her aid. And as she turned to look at what had spooked the man, she noticed some palace guards talking to Rolfe, and she swore herself. No that man was not a commoner. And as she watched the palace guards search through the market, she wondered who the mysterious man with the molten blue eyes was.

* * *

 _Thank you for taking the time to read my fist attempt at a Captain Swan story. I thought I'd start with a short chapter to see if anyone is interested. Any commentary would be greatly appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

The day had passed painfully slow for Emma after the stranger had left. She spent the remainder of the day searching the market place and hoping to catch a glimpse of the tidy black hair and sparkling blue eyes. But the man never returned. As the stalls began to close with the setting of the sun, Emma packed away her own wares and walked through the emptying streets to Rumples dwelling. When she rounded the last corner and made her way past an old shoe repair shop, Emma stopped short of Rumples front door.

Upon the handle hung a wooden cane; a gesture known throughout the Rookery that important business was taking and place and no one was to disturb. Ordinarily Emma would not concern herself with Rumples business, only today she recognized who the cane belonged to.

Rolfe.

As if the thought of his very name summoned him like some sort of Demon, the front door slammed open and the man himself emerged in all his sweaty glory. He fixed his hat upon his head and then a wicked smile pulled at his lips as he beheld Emma.

"Ah, here she is." He purred. "I was just telling Rumplestilskin the story of our encounter earlier in the market."

"You mean how you were knocked flat on your back with a single blow in front of the whole Rookery?" She lifted her chin defiantly.

"Well," He growled as he pulled his cane from the door handle and gave it a twirl. "I may have changed and exaggerated some details."

"I do hope you told him you cried like a newly born babe." Her voice shook as she tried to hide the dread that rolled through her. She could only imagine the lies Rolfe told Rumple to further his agenda.

Rolfe sneered and took a step until he was standing in front of Emma, mere centimeters separating their faces. "I hope you make it through the night girl, I do love our encounters."

He tipped his hat mockingly, and then strode off into the night whistling a tune she recognized as the death march prisoners sang as they walked to the gallows.

Nausea gripped her stomach. Rumple still was not aware of her presence out side the dwelling. Perhaps she could make a run for it; find passage to the southern isles where the _Ogre War_ was being fought. Maybe, just maybe, Rumple would not follow her there. For all the power and influence the man held, Emma knew one thing; Rumple was a coward.

"Swan!"

Emma went still, praying she was hearing things and that she still had time to escape.

"I see you standing out there in the ruddy street. I'll add another ten lashings if you're not inside by the time I get the whip."

Emma had heard the threat before. What were another ten lashings to her when she had already lost count of the scars already on her back? Regardless, Emma rushed through the door and placed her basket on the table just as Rumple entered to room with a whip in hand.

"Ten lashings for your insolence." He hissed.

As if she was on autopilot, Emma knelt in front of him; her shoulders slumped in defeat, and pulled at the tie at the back of her neck until her dress open to reveal her back.

"Count each strike girl and remember this moment the next time you go to open your mouth."

Rumple raised the whip as Emma braced herself, and then he bought it down upon her back.

... ... ...

"Are you listening child?"

Emma shook her head as if to shake away her thoughts and looked to the older woman who sat across from her. Granny, as she was known through out the Rookery, sat atop a makeshift chair of wooden crates and flour sacks; a crossbow at one side of her, and a basket of wool the other. Though she held no position within the leaders of the Rookery, the common folk looked to Granny as a figurehead of Poorside. Everyday she sat with her crossbow to her left and knitted as she oversaw the day-to-day business of the Market.

That morning, Emma had left the house early and snagged a position close to Granny, just in case Rolfe decided to make an appearance. No doubt the pig of a man would stroll by just to gloat at Emma.

"I asked you what happened yesterday in the Market. The whole Rookery is buzzing with talk that you struck Rolfe."

Emma snorted. Rumors did tend to loose some truth when it spread through so many people.

"I did not lay a hand on that tub of pig guts," Emma assured the older woman. "Although he did strike me. And he would have again, had it not been for some 'mysterious stranger'"

"Mysterious Stranger?" Granny laughed as she picked another ball of yarn from her basket; a deep green this time. It would clash with the already present blue and brown and Emma wondered if Granny was colour blind.

"You listen to too many stories of Romance girl."

Emma sighed and set to work setting up her stall. "You mistake my tone Granny. I call him a mysterious stranger because he did not give his name, nor did his appearance match that of the Rookery."

"A traded from another land?"

Emma shook her head "He said he has lived here since he was a child."

"A scoundrel then, top of the Palace Guards wanted list?"

But Emma did not answer. She was not sure who he was, and she did not care to find out. The stinging pain on her back reminded her of all the trouble that he was.

"I just want to forget the whole incident and hope that Rofle doesn't show his face in the market for a while."

"I'll pray to the Gods for you." Granny chuckled to herself as she continued to knit her blanket.

Emma looked at Granny and then to the blanket and screwed up her nose. "Those colours are awful." Emma said.

With a slight curve to her lip Granny replied. "One of these days child, someone will cut out your younger for speaking your mind."

Emma laughed dismissively but inside she agreed with Granny. She was far more trouble than she was worth and always wondered why Rumple kept her bound to him. Her constant backchat and disobedience sent him into a rage frequently. But no matter how many times he whipped and beat her, she continued on, as if there was a fire inside her that she could not douse.

In the distance the castle bell tower chimed Seven and the surrounding stalls sprang to life. With trading delayed due to the rain, vendors were eager to make up for lost money. Emma glanced at Granny, who was lost in her stitch work and let out a heavy sigh.

"The Lady is tired already." A familiar voice spoke from behind her. "But the day has only just begun."

Emma took a breath to calm herself, and prayed to the Gods that it was not the stranger from yesterday. But as she turned, she was met with the familiar sapphire blue eyes and cocky smile.

Emma couldn't help but groan and she wondered if he continued to call her 'Lady' just to mock her slave status.

"I do tend to have that effect on women."

"Revulsion?" She quipped.

"You wound me." He gasped as his hand gripped his chest playfully.

Emma laughed. She could not help it. His dazzling smile and playful tone sent shivers of excitement down her spine.

"I have never heard such a sweet sound." His velvet smooth voice was a pleasure to listen to, compared to Rumples clipped tone and Rookery accent. But she could not ignore his Highborn accent or the new clothes he wore. The man was hiding something and she had to remember that.

"Why are you here?" She asked finally.

"I wanted to see if you were alright. You implied that you would be punished for my actions yesterday.'

Emma stilled. She was not used to this amount of concern. It was unsettling.

"As you can see I'm in one piece."

The man nodded but looked her up and down nonetheless.

Emma crossed her arms. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" She said impatiently.

The man was silent for a moment, his eyes lost in thought before he replied, "It occurred to me that I have missed my brothers birthday, and I require a gift as atonement."

"I carry only small trinkets, and nothing fine enough for a you." She said.

His eyes flicked up to hers in an instant and she knew she had guessed correctly that he was Highborn.

The corner of his mouth pulled up slightly. "Nothing for a scoundrel like me?" He asked innocently.

Emma rolled her eyes. "What sort of activities does he enjoy, so I may find a trinket to match."

"Sailing."

"Is that all?"

He nodded.

Emma sighed and looked over her table, until a thought entered her mind.

"I have been working on something." She mumbled, more to herself than to the stranger. "But I have yet to finish it."

Emma reached to grab the basket that sat beneath the table, but a cry of pain left her mouth and she quickly straightened herself. She had forgotten the ten lashes she had received the night before and she quietly cursed herself. She was usually so careful to move in a way that did not disturb the skin on her back, but she was been so caught up with the stranger that she had completely forgotten.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice thick with concern.

Emma nodded quickly, trying to take deep breaths as she waited for the pain to ease, and as it began to ebb and then fade, she noticed that the stranger had moved beside her.

"You _are_ injured." His hand reached out to touch her, comfort her, but he quickly pulled it back when he saw her flinch away. "What can I do to help?"

She stepped away from him and placed her hands on her hips. "You have done enough."

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "You say that as if _I_ have caused you injury?"

Anger had flared in Emma then and burned ferociously in her chest, sending a wave of heat into her cheeks.

"You stuck your nose were it did not belong yesterday." She ground out through her teeth.

"I was trying to help you."

"I was not some damsel in distress who needed saving! I had everything under control."

"He was about to strike you again." He protested, trying to make her understand.

"And you should have let him!" She yelled. "You have no idea how things work in the Rookery."

The stranger stepped back like a wounded dog. "It's not in my nature. I apologize for doing what I though was right."

"That's just it. Your good nature has only gotten me in more trouble."

He cocked his head in confusion.

"Ten lashings for my insolence." She said in a voice mocking Rumple and then she collapsed onto the stool, exhaustion suddenly taking hold of her.

A look a horror flashed across his face only to be replaced but a deep seething regret and he opened his mouth to say something, but Emma waved her hand at him and he fell silent.

"Just leave, before more word reaches my master and I am punished again."

The stranger regarded her for a moment, his face now unreadable, and he slowly walked forward and placed three gold coins in front of her.

"For the Swan trinket." And then he was gone before she could throw the money back in his face in disgust. Emma knew she was directing her anger at the wrong person. She should never have engaged Rolfe in the first place. She should have keep her treacherous mouth shut. It was all her fault.

"I take it that was the mysterious stranger." Granny said, her knitting now forgotten.

Emma had forgotten Granny was there, and felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment that the older woman had heard the whole exchange.

"He is very handsome." Granny mused.

Emma ignored her.

For all the trouble he had caused, Emma still sent a silent prayer to the Gods that she would see the stranger again. He had awoken something inside Emma, something she had never felt before, and she clutched down on it, willing the feeling to never fade.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

The three gold coins sat heavily in Emma's pocket, jingling slightly with each step she took. Her eyes scanned the streets as she made her way home, fully aware that any good thief would recognize the sound of the gold coins. It wasn't until she was through the front door of Rumples dwelling that she allowed herself to breathe.

Emma slipped her hand into her pocket and let her fingers run over the rough surfaces of the coins. That man was crazy giving her those coins. Three was more than enough to buy every trinket she had in her possession and then some. She let out a frustrated cry and looked around the room for a place to hide them. Rumple was sure to take the coins if he found them, and then he would surely question were they came from. He would no doubt accuse her of stealing them and give her a sound lashing.

The front door slammed open and Rumplestiltskin sauntered in, his fiendish laugh drowning out the rattle of the windows. Emma quickly tucked the coins between her breasts and hoped that Rumple kept his wandering eyes to himself. Emma shuddered at this thought, but he had never touched her before, and she prayed to the Gods that he never did.

"Up to no good dearie?" He eyed her as he peeled off his coat at threw it at her. Emma barely caught the thick bundle of fabric as it hit her in the face and hiding her sneer, she walked back to the door and hung it up on the hook.

"I was just preparing supper." Emma said, fully aware that she wasn't even in the kitchen.

Rumple passed by her, draping his cane on the back of a chair and spun around in his usual dramatic way. Emma caught the distinctive smell of tobacco and rotting fish. _The docks_. There was only one man who did his business by the docks. _Rolfe_. She felt her heart speed up.

"How was business today?" She ventured to ask. If Rumple was meeting with Rolfe again, than Emma was in deep trouble.

Rumples brow pulled together in surprise and Emma silently cursed herself. She never asked Rumple about his day, let alone his business. Not because she was too scared to ask, but because she really could not care less what he did with his time. He would suspect she was fishing for information.

The corner of Rumples mouth pulled up into the remnants of a smile and he slowly walked towards Emma, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"Business, Dearie, was excellent."

Emma felt a chill run down her spine; she hadn't expected him to answer.

"In fact," He continued. "I just made a deal that will make me a _very_ rich man."

Emma tried to smile, but her mind was reeling. What kind of deal could Rumple make? He dealt with small town crooks and nothing large so he wouldn't draw the attention of the palace guards.

"Aren't you going to ask me what deal I made?" He finally asked when she remained silent.

Emma swallowed and tried to keep her voice level. "What deal?"

His shrill laugh ripped through the small dwelling and she couldn't help but flinch. "Well you see Dearie, an investment I made fifteen years ago has finally paid off."

Emma's brows pulled together in confusion. What kind of investment could Rumple have made that long ago? His business was quick and fast deals; he didn't have the patience to make investments. Fifteen years ago he hadn't even set foot in the Rookery. In fact, fifteen years ago he had only just acquired Emma as a slave and…

The blood in her veins turned to ice and the breath caught in her throat.

 _She was his investment._

Another shrill laugh cracked through the room and Rumple took another step towards Emma. "I was just going about my business when I was approached by someone. He said he had a proposition that would ensure I never work another day in my life."

Emma could hear the blood rushing I her ear and she wished the sound would drown out Rumples voice.

"I laughed at him at first, but he assured me that all I was to do to receive a lifetime of gold," He took another step towards Emma until he stood mere inches from her, his sickly sweet breath brushing against her skin. "-was to hand over you."

Emma felt the last of her resolve crumple and she fell to her knees, her body shaking uncontrollable. _Sold_ , like livestock or a piece of furniture. Just like that she could be bartered without a second though.

"I know what your thinking." Rumple said, his voice absolutely gleeful. "Who would pay so much for _you_?"

He bent down in front of her and pulled a stand of her hair between his fingers. "At first I thought it was Rolfe, wanting you for himself so he could break you. And who could blame him after you humiliated him in the market."

Emma shuddered at the thought of _belonging_ to Rolfe and she opened her mouth to object, but Rumple silenced her with his finger against her lips.

"But you and I both know that Rolfe doesn't have that kind of money. So who else would pay such an exuberant amount of money for a young, beautiful and undoubtedly pure woman?"

Everything clicked together in Emma's head and she couldn't help to sob that escaped her mouth.

"Now, now Dearie, don't cry." Rumple closed the gap between them and reached to wipe the tears from Emma's face. If it had of been anyone else, the gesture would have been loving and tender. But Emma knew Rumple better that that and she swatted his hand away. Anger flashed across Rumples face and he stood up hastily.

"Men with line up around the block to have a turn at _my_ golden trinket." He sniggered.

Nausea rolled ferociously in her stomach and she fought to keep down the bile that rose in her throat.

"Don't look so glum! I hear the Rookery has some very glamorous whore houses."

Emma felt something flick inside her, like flame being ignited and sudden urge to smack the smug smile of Rumples face burned through her body. But before she could act on that urge, a sharp know sounded at the door.

"Ah that will be your buyer. He's a bit early, but I can't complain."

Emma flew to her feet, panic dousing her fierce resolve.

"Yes, he was very adamant about acquiring you as soon a possible."

Again he referred to her like she was a piece of merchandise. Instinctively her eyes feel to the mark branded on her wrist. This was always going to be her life, passed from one master to the next, until she was worthless or dead.  
Emma searched the room for a means to escape, but Rumple stood at the door and eyed her with a knowing smile.

"There is nowhere to run girl. Embrace your destiny." And then Rumple pulled the door open.

He wasn't much to look at; short, thick and despite his relatively young age, he was balding. A short mousy beard covered his jaw and his plain clothes gave no indication of wealth what so ever.

"This her?" He gestured to Emma.

Rumple and nodded and motioned for the man to come in but the stranger simple stood at the threshold. Behind him, Emma could make out the silhouette of a black carriage pulled by a single horse, which nickered quietly. If his clothes didn't reflect his wealth, then the carriage certainly did.

"Bring her to the carriage." The stranger said.

Rumple bowed deeply -a gesture Emma had never seen him do- and walked to Emma and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders.

"No!" She screamed, "Please don't do this!"

But he ignored her pleas and he began to drag her towards the door, despite her struggles.

The stranger stood at the carriage, holding the door open, his head bowed. The whole scene struck Emma as odd. It was almost as if he couldn't bear to watch. As the carriage loomed before her, Emma felt all hope fade. She would spend the rest of her days wasting away in a whorehouse while men had their way with her.

 _No._

Emma refused to suffer that fate.

With every ounce of strength she had, Emma heaved her elbow in Rumples crouch, and twisted out of his grip as he fell to the ground, howling in agony. Her feeling of triumph lasted only seconds before she took in her surroundings for an escape route. But before she could even take a step, something hard connected with her skull and she fell into the waiting darkness.


End file.
